


magia - of fears and fire

by Yasuo_Karada



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Be Careful What You Wish For, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Puella Magi Madoka Magica AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5634163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yasuo_Karada/pseuds/Yasuo_Karada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all comes at a price. What is the price for the change you seek?</p>
            </blockquote>





	magia - of fears and fire

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was gonna do a PMMM AU and goddamn it I'm doing it.

 

> 
>       **_wünschen_
>       **
>     
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

_What is it you truly want?_  
  
_Is it for the end? Is it for this world to reach its destruction, to release everyone from their suffering?_  
  
_Is it for the truth, for the meaning of everything to come to clarity, your efforts to come to fruition?_

 _And what will you give for this truth? A fleeting wish need not much – but the desire for change is costly. How much of yourself are you willing to give for this change?_  
  
_It all comes at a price. What is the price for the change you seek?_

 

* * *

  
  
Eyelids fluttered open, hazel eyes focusing as they drudged out of sleep to take in the sunlight poking through the curtains on the window. Dried lips parted to release a sigh and a body worn down from another sleepless night forced itself to sit upright. A palm pressed against his right eye as his fingers curled around the left, blocking out the blinding sun as he groaned at the on-coming headache, likely caused from stress.  
  
“Damn it, didn't get any sleep last night, either,” Aoba grumbled to himself before clearing his throat.  
  
For the past month, a voice had been speaking to him in his sleep. Every night it had been the same thing: talks of “change”, of “sacrifice”, of what it was he wanted. What did he want? He himself wasn't too sure, at least at first.

As the month progressed, his grandmother's condition had gotten worse. He had come to visit her at her home one day to find her collapsed on the kitchen floor when he let himself in. The doctors summed it up to a combination of stress, old age, and over-exertion; he couldn't believe it when they first told him, after all she was such a strong woman.  
  
And yet, every time he visited her at the hospital, he was reminded of the fact that while she was a strong woman, she was very old, and she was very mortal.  
  
At the rate her health was declining, they gave her until the end of the year.  
  
Aoba began to pick up extra shifts at work to help pay for her medical procedures, or any new medicine, or even a simple pick-me-up from her favorite florist, and it was beginning to wear him down. It all was. His grandmother was his entire world and he would fight tooth and nail to keep her around, even if for just one more day.  
  
A thought fleeted by in the back of his mind as he lowered his hand and stared at the window.  
  
_What is the price for the change you seek?_

He merely sighed once more before trudging out of bed and down the hall of his tiny one-bedroom apartment to freshen up. He had the day off of work today – the first in about two weeks – so he was planning on spending most of it at the hospital with his grandmother. He didn't even realize his body moving autonomously, allowing his mind to drift while it went through the motions.  
  
He wanted her to get better. If he had any wish in the entire world, the _universe_ , that would be granted, it would be that she lived longer, happy and healthy.  
  
He would give anything for that wish.  
  
This thought repeated itself over and over again as he stood in the shower, staring at the tiled wall. He couldn't tell if the water streaming down his face was from the shower-head or from his own imaginary tears.  
  
He didn't know what else to do.

 

* * *

  
  
“You're quite lively, Aoba. Knock it off,” she scowled, earning a weak chuckle from her grandson as he approached the table beside her bed, switching out the bouquet from a few days ago with the newer one he held.  
  
“Heh, I'm sorry, baa-chan. I can't help it, I'm just happy to see you.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. You say that every time.”  
  
Tae Seragaki had been Aoba's only family member ever since he was a kid, about the age of eight. Neither of them had fully recovered from the loss of his parents, but they found solace in each other, as families are wont to do.

The two spent most of the late morning and early afternoon chatting, be it about new recipes or what's going on with Aoba's job or gossip among the nurses. While she put on a strong front, Aoba could see from the lackluster gleam in her eyes that she wasn't doing so well. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and went about the rest of his visit as though nothing was any different. It may have been better that way.  
  
It broke his heart when one of her nurses came by to inform them that it was time for her physical therapy, prompting Aoba to leave with a promise that he'll stop by when he can.  
  
He left the hospital with his hands in his pants pockets, staring down at the ground as he slowly shuffled down the sidewalk towards nowhere in particular. At this time of day, everyone was at work or school so there wasn't a whole lot of foot traffic for him to run into.  
  
When Aoba finally looked up, he realized that he didn't know exactly which neighborhood he had wandered off to; specifically, he had appeared in front of a nameless bar he wasn't aware was in the area. Well, even though it was in the middle of the day, now was as good a time as any for a drink, all things considered.  
  
With that thought, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and stepped inside.  
  
“Ah, welcome!” A strangely soothing voice welcomed him seemingly out of nowhere as Aoba looked around the place. It was rather classy, with dark modern furniture and black-and-white checkered floor tiles. The walls were painted a deep red, lit mostly by candle. It was rather intimate, mysterious, yet somehow inviting all the same.  
  
Aoba took a seat at the bar as a blond man with a slim frame and glasses approached him.  
  
“It's rather early in the day to be drinking, but we don't judge. What am I able to get for you?” He smiled faintly, bright turquoise eyes gleaming even in the poor lighting.  
  
“I don't particularly care, anything on the rocks will work,” Aoba sighed, folding his arms across the bar table to create a cushion for him to rest his chin. The man vanished and reappeared without him even realizing it.

“Here you are, Seragaki-san.” The man set the small glass filled with ice and some sort of liquor – the smell indicated gin.  
  
“Thank yo– wait, how do you know my name?” Aoba paused as he reached for the glass. Red flags were going off all over inside his head, but for some reason he seemed bolted to the seat, unable to move and rationally leave this strange place.  
  
“We know many things here at Glitter. People are drawn to this place when they need something, like guidance or a miracle. Does this sound like you, Aoba Seragaki-san?” The man grinned now.  
  
Aoba raised a suspicious eyebrow and the small hairs on the back of his neck bristled up in tension. Who was this man and how did he know his name?  
  
More importantly, why couldn't his body move so he could get the hell out of here?  
  
“Ah, allow us to introduce ourselves.” Another voice, gruffer, deeper, came from his side. Aoba turned to see a near-identical copy of the man in front of him; both had spiked blond hair, with the newcomer having a similar gleam in his own turquoise eyes. “Your bartender here is Virus. My name is Trip. We're 'experts', you could say.”  
  
Experts, huh?  
  
Aoba slowly withdrew his hand from the glass, unease rising in his gut. His heart raced slightly, the beginnings of fight-or-flight kicking in.  
  
“Like I said, people usually find their way here when there is something weighing heavily on their hearts. What seems to be troubling you, Seragaki-san?” Virus kept the grin plastered onto his face as Trip joined his side, the latter leaning against the bar table across from Aoba.  
  
“Oh, my. It's your grandmother, isn't it?” Trip spoke in an empathetic tone, but it made Aoba jolt in his seat. Every single alarm in his body was going off, but why the _fuck_ couldn't he get up to leave?  
  
“How-”

“Look into the glass, Seragaki-san.” Virus gestured to the glass of liquor in front of him. Aoba gulped before he slowly leaned forward a bit to stare down into the liquor.  
  
Events of his childhood reflected on its surface, all overlapping rapidly as though his life was literally flashing before his eyes. A chill ran down his spine and his bangs stuck to his forehead in a cold sweat, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage.  
  
“You've had quite the hardships, haven't you, Seragaki-san?”  
  
“From a young age, life has not been very kind to you,” Trip began, practically narrating as the memories unfolded in the glass. “From your father walking out on you and your mother as a small child, to your mother being hit by a car while you two were out running errands...you had to move from the mainland to live with your grandmother here, out in the middle of nowhere.”  
  
Pressure began to build behind his eyes, the first signs of tears he had long forgotten how to shed. His fingers twitched every now and then, his guard dropping as despair began to settle into his heart once again.  
  
“It was just the two of you almost all your life, wasn't it?” Virus chimed in. “She took care of you; she's a very kind and very strong woman, isn't she? But alas, even the kindest and strongest of people have weaknesses, and hers is just about as unavoidable as death itself.”  
  
The last image he saw in the glass was of his beloved grandmother struggling to support herself during the physical therapy she seemed to still be going through, even at this moment, the doctor some distance behind her giving her a concerned expression as she faltered a bit. He sighed heavily in defeat and grief, tearing his eyes away from the glass. Virus and Trip glanced at each other with neutral expressions before returning their attention to the despairing man in front of them.  
  
“If you could wish for anything to help her, Aoba, what would it be?”  
  
At this, Aoba looked up to Trip, his eyes widening as his words sunk in.  
  
_What is it you truly want?_  
  
“I...I'd want her to get better,” Aoba began, pausing to swallow some spit to moisten his dried mouth before he continued, “I'd want her to live a long life, free of worry or pain. I want to see her happy.”  
  
“Is that what you truly want?” Virus spoke firmly, bringing Aoba's attention to himself.  
  
“Yes. More than anything.” Aoba nodded once with resolve, his nerves calmed as though confessing his woes helped to alleviate the gravity of it all. The two blond men glanced at each other once more before Virus gently pushed the glass of gin closer towards Aoba.  
  
“It may be best to take a drink, Seragaki-san.”  
  
Aoba stared up at him, gaze unwavering as he searched for a hint to any hidden motives. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he found none, and reached for the glass.  
  
“Just remember that everything comes at a price, Aoba. Even miracles.” Aoba froze at hearing Trip's strangely out-of-nowhere warning, the glass almost to his lips. He closed his eyes and nodded with a hushed _'I know'_ before the cold liquor washed down the back of his throat as he tossed his head back.

 

* * *

 

When he opened his eyes next, he was back in his bed in his tiny one-bedroom apartment, the sun barely peeking through the curtains. A quick glance at his phone showed that it w–  
  
The date was the same as yesterday.  
  
“The fuck...?” Aoba muttered to himself. The last he could remember, he was in that strange bar – Glitter, he think they mentioned – and somehow those two blond guys had gotten him to open up about his troubles.  
  
It... _did_ happen, didn't it?  
  
He had to seem for himself. Aoba scrambled hastily out of bed to throw on his clothes (which were in the exact same spot as they were yesterday, thrown about this way and that, he noticed) and shove his feet into his shoes before he dashed out the front door and sprinted full-speed down the street to the hospital.  
  
When he asked the receptionist in the main lobby on the condition of a Tae Seragaki, they claimed she was not in their records of patients currently admitted. Before she could ask for more clarity, Aoba had already bounded out of the hospital.  
  
He couldn't even feel how heavy his legs were from running or how his heart pounded from the heavy breathing, he felt like he was flying and that he had energy to spare. A left turn here, another left down the road before making a sharp right, and he had arrived in his grandmother's neighborhood. His pace only increased as he grew closer to her house, he just had to see for himself.  
  
The neighborhood seemed a bit darker, but he didn't care; it was probably overcast but he was too excited and nervous he didn't even bother worrying about the weather.  
  
The instant he made it to her front door, he knocked erratically before frantically searching his pants pocket for his copy of her house key she made for him...only to find it wasn't there. Before he could question why he was missing his key, the door slowly opened.  
  
“ _Baa-chan_!” Aoba beamed brightly, his grin getting painfully wider at seeing her moving as though her accident never happened.  
  
And yet, something was...off.  
  
Tae's eyebrows furrowed and her mouth twisted a bit, staring Aoba up and down as an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Forgive me, but who are you, young man?”  
  
Aoba could practically hear his heart shatter and feel it as it sank like a brink into his stomach.  
  
“...B... _baa-chan_...?” His voice came out so weak, trembling as he struggled to get it out.  
  
“Hey now, I may be old, but I ain't _that_ old. Is there something I can help you with?” Tae seemed to catch onto his sudden hesitation. After an awkward moment, Aoba merely shook his head and laughed weakly.  
  
“Heh, sorry, ma'am. I think I may have gotten the wrong house. I apologize for disturbing you,” he murmured as he bowed before quickly turning away to leave the premises. Tae watched as he left before she sighed and closed the door, returning back to her house.  
  
Nothing made sense. Yesterday repeated after he drank at that strange bar, and now his own grandmother didn't remember him. He was extremely glad to see she even looked a few years younger, and she was moving about freely; and yet, it hurt to know that she didn't know who he was. Should he have tried to jog her memory?  
  
Nah...he would give her time. The memory loss had to have been a side-effect to the stress and therapy, right?  
  
“Yahoo, Aoba~” A familiar voice called him over from an alley, prompting him to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to turn to see Trip and Virus lingering in the shadows.  
  
Perfect. He had a bone to pick with them.  
  
“What the hell is going on?” Aoba bit as he approached them hastily, scowling.  
  
“Aren't you happy to see your beloved grandmother is healthy again? She seems a bit happier, too, looks like she's gained back a few years lost.” Virus leaned against the side of one of the buildings as he folded his arms across his chest. “It is what you wanted, isn't it?”  
  
“Quit fucking around and tell me what the _shit_ is going on,” Aoba barked, taking absolutely no nonsense. “I black out after talking to you guys yesterday, and I wake up to find that yesterday is actually today? Oh, and my grandma doesn't even fucking _remember_ me?”  
  
“Everything comes at a price. Even miracles,” Trip repeated his warning from before, shoving his hands into his own pockets and earning a sharp glare in his direction. He didn't seem fazed.  
  
“If I recall, you had said that more than anything, you wanted her to get better, to live a happy and healthy long life, no?” Virus began. “You got exactly what you wanted. She's healthier and much happier now.”  
  
“The _fuck_ I did!” Aoba kicked a nearby trashcan in a fit of rage, sending garbage all over the alley yet somehow missing the two blond men entirely. “I wanted her to be happy and to get better, but I didn't want her to _forget_ about me!”  
  
“Ah, see, now _that_ 's where you failed to understand your own desires,” Virus cooed, pushing his glasses closer to his face. “Your grandmother's happiness and your relationship with her are mutually exclusive. They cannot exist at the same time.”  
  
Aoba stared at Virus horrified, what the _fuck_ was he saying?  
  
“Were you even aware of how she looked at you?” Trip chimed in. “True, she loved you like her own son, but every time she looked at you, all she could see was her daughter. Seeing you was a constant reminder of what she had lost, and the burden of that sorrow is ultimately what weighed her down.”  
  
“It isn't anything that was inherently your fault, Seragaki-san, nor was it consciously done with any malice,” Virus continued. “To be honest, we're not sure she was even aware of the resentment having you around made her feel. Nonetheless, you had wished for her happiness, and you got it.”  
  
“You've gotta be shitting me...” Aoba mumbled, his knees shaking just a tiny bit. Whether it was out of rage or horror or the realization itself finally sinking in, he wasn't sure, and eventually they gave out, and he fell to his knees, staring blankly off into some distance past the two men.  
  
“Ah, be careful not to fall into despair, Aoba,” Trip warned. “You don't want to be consumed by it. It would be troublesome, both for you and for us.”  
  
Aoba didn't seem to register what he was saying. Despair? Consume?  
  
...Whatever. None of it made sense anymore.  
  
Trip and Virus glanced at each other before returning their respective gazes to the broken man.  
  
“You might need this.” Virus approached Aoba and held out a small glass vial in the shape of a heart tied to a looped chain. He gently placed it over Aoba's head, letting the chain drape perfectly around his neck. After a second or two, the vial seemed to fill with a luminescent liquid that glowed a faint gray blue, a few spots of the deepest black tainting the otherwise perfectly clear color.  
  
None of these brought a reaction out of him.  
  
“Well, you're a smart guy. We're sure you'll figure it all out,” Virus sighed. He took a few steps back and vanished into the wall, like magic.  
  
“Remember, Aoba: don't fall into despair. And don't let others fall into despair. You won't like what you'll see it do it people,” Trip warned, perhaps on deaf ears, as he followed suit and vanished into the opposite wall.  
  
Aoba remained where he was, fixated on whatever it was he was staring at. He wasn't even sure himself.  
  
Down the alley, on the other side of the road, where people were passing by, he saw them. He saw them in various shapes and sizes, each hooked to their own person. The color from his world around him drained, and it was like the sun itself had given up.  
  
They resembled shadows, but in a physical form, what little of a form they kept; their shapes distorted as though they were some crude drawing done by a small child; some were small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, some so small he could barely see them from his distance, some taller than the person they were following.  
  
The bigger ones were grotesque, with teeth visible and bright against their dark figures, looking like they were ready to devour the person at any given moment.  
  
He had never seen these before, not until after those weirdos left. What had he gotten himself into...?
    
    
      **_wish_
      **
    

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> why am i not nice to aoba


End file.
